chapter twelve
"What do you mean, you think?" he asked, his mind not yet grasping the gravity of her words that she just uttered.
"The test is still in the bathroom," she said quietly.
"What are you waiting for?"
"Stop with all these questions! I don't know, I just…don't know! I can't deal with this right now."
"Well, it's not exactly going to wait for you, Rory."
"I know that, Logan! Just leave, please."
"Are you serious? You could be pregnant, you're not really sure, and it would be mine, wouldn't it, and you're asking me to leave?"
"Fine, stay, if I knew you were going to bitch about it I wouldn't have you told you."
"Was telling me even in your plan? Maybe when you needed some cash here and there, 'Hey Logan, you have a kid, can you send a check?'"
Her palm stung against his cheek and his head contracted from the blow. "How dare you."
He stopped, "Rory, I didn't…" but she was gone. He heard the bathroom door slam, followed by a strangled cry. She had seen the test results.
She picked up the small stick from the counter, her hand shaking, and opened the door, momentarily forgetting that he had just insulted her. He had to steady her hand with his own to see what it read.
"You're…we're having a baby. But…how?"
"Well, Logan, when a woman and a man-" she was cut off.
"Rory," he said sharply and she backed up. "I mean, we were careful."
She stopped, her mind obviously going over encounters they had had in the past few weeks and her eyes shot to his, he too realizing when it must have been.
"The closet," she whispered.
He gave a small smile, "That was a good night."
"What a story we can tell her."
"What if it's a him?"
"I think we have a little time to worry about that."
"I don't know what to say. I'm…"
She gave him a watery smile. "You're leaving," she said flatly.
He stopped his pacing that he had started when she had brought out the test. "Rory, no, I'll talk to him."
"No, Logan, I'm not going to let you."
"You're not the only one with a say in this."
"Logan," she whispered, her hand wrapping around his wrist, "you have to go."
"Rory," he breathed, wiping stray hairs from her face, "I can't leave you."
"You can, and you will. It's only for a month, right?" He nodded. "Okay, so I'll stay here and…wait, you're not going to be here for the opening?"
He rubbed her stomach, "Don't worry about it."
"We're going to pretend there is no opening so I don't get an ulcer, and you'll go and I'll, we'll," she corrected herself, "be here when you get back."
"Both of you?" he asked, smiling.
"Both of us," she smiled back, and he crashed his lips to hers, her arm wrapping around his neck. She pulled back and buried her face in his neck. "I'm so tired."
"Go to sleep. Let me change," he said.
"No, you need to get home, pack. I won't be any fun anyways." She seemed adamant on having him go.
"Rory…"
"Please, I just sort of want to gather my thoughts right now. Is that okay?"
He nodded and pressed another kiss to her lips and bent down to kiss her stomach, her hands tangled in his hair as she smiled, happy that he wasn't completely rejected by the idea of having a baby.
"We'll have to talk tomorrow before I leave. You know, the big things."
Her eyebrow rose. "Can't wait," she said sarcastically.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, kissing her forehead once more and leaving her to herself.
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He walked up the stairs to her house and eased the door open carefully, quietly. "Rory?" he called.
He looked in the kitchen, the living room before finally going upstairs to search for her.
He only found a letter, in her neat cursive, in an envelope with his name lovingly written on the front.
Logan –
If you're reading this, which you are, obviously, I'm gone. Not for good, but for now. You'll be gone and I don't want these memories of you around, even if you are coming back, but God knows when that will be, with your father.
Sadly enough, I feel like a twenty year old writing this, not a twenty-six year old. Running away from everything, everyone. I'll be back soon, probably after you're back, and we can rehash everything and you can yell at me at how irresponsible I was, and am, which I know you are itching to do right now.
Am I right? I knew it.
Please don't try to find me, now or when you get back, please just let me, us, be, until we're ready to come back.
I handed the rest of your restaurant opening work, which you probably won't be there for anyways, over to Paris. Say hello/goodbye to Finn for me.
I love you. So much.
Rory
He crumpled it in his fist, only to unfold it and try to smooth it on the wood of her dresser. He jerked open the closet door to find all her clothes there, minus a select few.
He was blinded by his rage, his anger, his love for her. He slid all the clothes down the rod before throwing them to the floor, smashing his fist in the full length mirror she had at the end of her closet.
This one time, he would truly respect her wishes without any hidden agenda or secret make up planned. He wouldn't tell her that he took partial credit, wanting to get her pregnant, if only, at the time, it was what he wanted. Her, a family, not always having to convince her to come back to him.
He would go to Oregon for a month, and come back to New York to wait for her return.
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, sliding down the wall of her closet, dialing her number, the one he knew so well.
He got her voice mail, which he expected, hoped for.
"Rory," his voice was hoarse, "I love you. I'll be waiting. For both of you," he added. Click.
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On a train to Staten Island to rent a small bungalow on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean, a young woman stared at her vibrating cell phone, purposely ignoring it. She had done the calculations, the timing, and knew that he had found her letter.
Rory dropped the phone into her lap and smoothed her hands over her stomach, anxiously awaiting the days when she would show.
She had called her mother only hours before, her mother sounding happy, a little weary of her decision and of the father of the baby, but happy, nonetheless.
Her hands shook as she held the cell phone back up to her line of vision.
1 New Message. She tentatively punched in her voice mailbox code and waited to hear his voice.
"Rory," he sounded tired, defeated, "I love you. I'll be waiting. For both of you."
End of Messages.
She looked at the phone, that was it? She purposely took her phone in case something bad happened and someone could have a way to contact her and that's what he said?
When she planned this, she hadn't expected him to want to wait for her.